


Called by Fate

by JantoJones



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2018-12-17 10:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11849673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: Destiny comes calling for one of U.N.C.L.E.'s file clerks.





	1. Destiny

Moira Laidlaw, Phyllis Wolsey and Pauline Harris had enjoyed a wonderful day of shopping. The three friends, who all worked as file clerks for the U.N.C.L.E., rarely got to spend time together outside of work; so a shopping day was a rare treat. They were just getting back into Moira’s car, when a familiar figure caught their attention.

Across the street, Illya Kuryakin was running, and looking over his shoulder; he was clearly being pursued. As the women watched, a black car screeched to a stop, and two men jumped out. They tackled Illya, who tried to fight them off, until they were joined by the man who had been chasing him. The three women couldn’t see what happened, but something caused the Russian to drop to the ground, unconscious.

“Oh my gosh!” Moira exclaimed. “Pauline, you’d better go and call the office. Phyllis and I will follow that car.”

“We will?” squeaked Phyllis.

“Don’t argue, they’ve almost got him in their car.”

As Pauline ran off to find a telephone, Moira and Phyllis took off after the kidnapped agent.

“I think you’ve been hanging out with one too many Section 2s,” Phyllis chided. “What do you plan to do exactly?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Moira replied.

She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She’d seen an agent in trouble, and had simply acted on instinct. Thinking about it logically, she knew she should have just alerted HQ, but then she would never have forgiven herself if Mr Kuryakin was killed.

“We’ll just see where they go, then telephone Mr Solo with the location.”

Phyllis relaxed. U.N.C.L.E. may have begun to accept female agents, but she had no desire for action. She was perfectly happy with her files, thank you very much. Moira, on the other hand, had contemplated applying on more than one occasion. She kept herself physically fit, and she was quite intelligent. The very act of tailing the abductors was causing her heart to beat a lot faster, and elicited dual feelings within her. On the one hand, she was terrified. What she was doing was incredibly dangerous and potentially deadly. One the other hand, however, she was excited beyond belief. It certainly won out over cataloguing expense reports.

They followed the vehicle for about a mile, until it came to a stop outside a derelict warehouse. Moira brought her own car to a halt, making sure to remain unobtrusive. 

“Okay, we know the location,” Phyllis stated. “Can we go now, and leave this to the professionals?”

Moira was about to agree, when she saw the manner in which Illya was taken inside. Two of the baddies, as she thought of them, had pulled the agent from the car, causing him to land heavily on the hard ground. They then took an arm each and dragged him into the warehouse. The third man got back into the vehicle and drove away.

“Take the car Phyll, and call Mr Solo from the first telephone you see.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “But I don’t feel happy leaving Mr Kuryakin alone.”

“It’s too dangerous Moira,” Phyllis tried to reason. “It would be better for him if he didn’t have you to worry about too.”

“Just go Phyll. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

Phyllis knew there was no point in arguing. Moira had always been stubborn, and once she set her mind to something, there was no budging her. Reluctantly, as soon as her friend got out, she went in search of a telephone.

Once Phyllis had gone, Moira ran across the open ground to the warehouse; thankful she’d chosen flat shoes to go shopping in. Edging around the wall, she searched for an alternative entrance and came upon a narrow door. Trying the handle, she was overjoyed to find it to be unlocked. She took a deep, ragged breath to calm her nerves, before pushing the door open and stepping inside. The room she entered was some sort of locker room, which had obviously been used by the workers when the place was in operation. She continued on, and cautiously peered through the small window in the next door. Moira was shocked to see the two men hanging Illya up by the wrists. He was hanging about three inches from the floor, and was also returning to consciousness.

“Where is the microfilm, Kuryakin?” Baddie number one growled.

Illya tried to assess his surroundings, but before he could gather his thoughts, his captors began to land punches to stomach and kidneys. They repeated the question, over and over, without giving him a chance to answer. Not that would say anything if they did. Through the fog of pain, he noticed something he had not expected to see. Peeking from a doorway was the face of Moira Laidlaw. He knew her from HQ, and the fact Napoleon had dated her twice, but he couldn’t fathom why she would be there. The agent forced himself to look away from her, not wishing to announce her presence.

Moira ducked away from the window to formulate a plan. At work, she had a pistol strapped to her back all day, but outside she didn’t carry any weapon. Glancing around, she noticed a few metal pipes lying on the floor. If she could get the baddies to come to her, she could possibly knock them out, if she could hit them hard enough.

Picking up one of the pipes, Moira kicked the rest with her foot, hoping to attract the attention of one of the guys. A voice in the back of her mind asked her what she would do if they both came. She pushed the voice away and tried to stay positive. Her positivity paid off when she heard one of the men tell the other one to investigate the noise. Positioning herself behind the door, Moira raised the pipe above her head. As soon as the man came in, she brought it down hard, sending him sprawling across the floor. For one terrible moment, Moira thought she had killed him, but then she saw that he was breathing. Strangely though, she realised that, if she had killed him, she would have been upset, but not as much as expected.

“Hey!” shouted the second baddie. “Did you find anything? Jeff?”

Moira waited. She knew that if Jeff didn’t answer, his partner would come looking. She readied herself again. A minute later, the door opened and the other man entered. Moira gave him the same treatment as his buddy, and he landed on top of the other man. After checking that neither would be getting up any time soon, Moira ran into the main warehouse area to rescue Mr Kuryakin.

“What are you doing here, Miss Laidlaw?”

“It’s a long story. If I lift you, can you get yourself free?”

Wrapping her arms around his legs, Moira raised Illya as far as she could. He was a lot heavier than he appeared. It was just enough for him to free his hands from the hook, but as soon as he did Moira over-balanced. She fell back, hitting her head as she landed. Unconsciousness came to her instantly.

 

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

Moira woke to white sheets and an antiseptic smell. Opening her eyes, she found Mr Kuryakin sitting by her bedside.

“What happened?” Oh very original, she thought.

Illya put down his magazine and smiled broadly. It was something seen by few, and it caused her heart to beat faster than it had when she’d followed the bad guys’ car.

“You pulled off a very daring rescue and, in the process, safeguarded an exceptionally important microfilm,” Kuryakin told her. “Unfortunately, you got yourself a concussion for your trouble.”

“It’s a small price to pay Mr Kuryakin.”

The door to the room opened, and they were joined by Napoleon Solo and Mr Waverly. Illya immediately stood up, albeit slowly, thanks to his blossoming bruises, and relinquished his seat the boss.

“Well, young lady,” Waverly began, as he sat down. “It would seem that this organisation, and Mr Kuryakin, owe you a great deal. I wonder, have you ever thought of training as an agent yourself?”

Moira was stunned. “Once or twice, Sir, but I don’t think I’d fit the criteria.”

“On the contrary, Moira,” Solo interjected. “You showed initiative and an ability to strategize quickly. You also proved that you are willing to do whatever is necessary to get the job done.”

“Be under no illusions, Miss Laidlaw,” Waverly continued. “The training is extremely arduous. Also, should you pass, there is no guarantee you’ll become a Section 2 agent. Although, judging by your performance today, I believe you’ll sail through.”

Moira couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The top man himself was giving her his endorsement. She was being given the chance to fulfill a wish she’d held for quite a while.

“Thank you Sir,” she said eventually. “As soon as I’m free from here, I shall submit my application.”

“There’s no need,” Illya told her, picking up a document he’d hidden with his magazine. “I’ve already taken the liberty. All you need do is sign it.”

Moira couldn’t stop herself from grinning. When she’d got up that morning, her only ambition had been to buy the cute little dress she seen a week earlier. She would never have guessed she would end the day as a potential new U.N.C.L.E. agent.


	2. End of Training

Dropping to her knees, Moira Laidlaw desperately tried to suck air into her tortured lungs. Around her, others were passing the finishing line, and some were in the same state of exhaustion as she was. Moira had known that Survival School was hardly going to be a picnic, but she hadn’t expected it to be quite so hard going. It gave her a much greater appreciation of the agents she knew, especially the women who had opened this world up for her. 

Little regard was given gender, and trainees of both sexes were expected to complete the gruelling assault course challenge before they could graduate. The only nod to gender difference was the time allowed for completion. Even then, the women were only given ten minutes extra.

Moira had no idea whether she had passed or not. Her main priority at that moment was attempting to gain control of her legs. They felt like burning jello, and she was unsure if they’d ever be able to support her again. For a while she was quite content to kneel on the hard ground and get her breathing under control.

As she gulped in the air, her stomach began to churn and she vomited. However, because Moira had been too nervous to eat breakfast, all she produced was a yellow bile. She grimaced at the mess, feeling suddenly down-hearted. There was no way they would let her be an agent if she couldn’t endure an assault course.

“Here, drink this. It will help to revive you.”

Moira lifted her head and found herself looking at a smiling Illya Kuryakin, who was holding out a cup of water. Behind him, with a matching smile, was his partner, Napoleon Solo. She hadn’t realised they were even on the island, and for that she was grateful. Had she known, her nerves would have been far, far worse. Accepting the cup, Moira guzzled the water.

“Slowly,” Illya warned her. “Just sip it.”

“Do you want to know how you did?” asked Napoleon, as he and Illya helped Moira up onto shaky legs.

“I know I’ve failed,” she replied, indicating the bile.

“Are you kidding?” Napoleon scoffed. “I passed out when I completed the course, and I still passed.”

“You mean, I’ve graduated?” Moira asked, with a mix of joy and incredulity.

“Indeed you have,” Illya told her. “And for the record, I too was extremely sick after finishing.”

As they made a wobbly way back to the school buildings, Napoleon informed her of the reason for their presence on the island. Waverly had been certain that, with her quick thinking and ability to utilise whatever was around her, she would easily fit with Section 2. Solo and Kuryakin had been receiving reports on her training and were granted permission to give her the good news in person; assuming she passed.

Moira grinned. Several weeks ago she had merely gone out to buy a dress. The chance sighting of Mr Kuryakin being abducted had led her down a wholly unexpected path. Now, here she was, U.N.C.L.E. New York’s newest Section 2 agent.


End file.
